


The Pieces Fit

by Letzi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 15x20, Depression, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, carry on, mentions of death i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27760177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letzi/pseuds/Letzi
Summary: Dean’s eyes blink open, and blink, and blink again, as the blinding light of the high noon sun prevents him from seeing anything.A tear slips along his cheek, the remnant of something distant, something good, appeasing, that slowly fades away like a dream. He wants to catch it before it disappears, but he can’t. It’s gone.In its place comes the grief, the too familiar pain that’s been following him for a couple of days now, too recent to forget. He has a second of confusion, an overwhelming rush of feelings coming over him as his memories come back.Everything that happened after Chuck beat them almost to death and Jack took his powers – or attempted to take his power, was fake. Dean dying, going to heaven, Sam making a family of his own. Everything. All fake.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 11
Kudos: 97





	The Pieces Fit

Dean’s eyes blink open, and blink, and blink again, as the blinding light of the high noon sun prevents him from seeing anything.

A tear slips along his cheek, the remnant of something distant, something good, appeasing, that slowly fades away like a dream. He wants to catch it before it disappears, but he can’t. It’s gone.

In its place comes the grief, the too familiar pain that’s been following him for a couple of days now, too recent to forget. He has a second of confusion, an overwhelming rush of feelings coming over him as his memories come back.

Everything that happened after Chuck beat them almost to death and Jack took his powers – or attempted to take his power, was fake. Dean dying, going to heaven, Sam making a family of his own. Everything. All fake.

Sounds rush all around him: Birds, the water gently lapping at the shore of the lake he’s lying next to. And Chuck’s voice.

“No…”

Weak, but close enough that Dean flinches. He pushes up, pausing in a half-seated position as nausea and dizziness overcome him for a brief moment.

He closes his eyes to make it go away.

“Sam?”

“Yeah,” comes Sam’s voice, right behind him.

 _Relief_. The one feeling he relishes.

Dean opens his eyes, still half-blinded by the too bright light, and looks at Chuck, prone on the ground, and Jack behind him, breathing hard but standing confidently nonetheless.

They did it. Against all odds, they defeated God.

Dean looks up at Jack, “What happened?”

Jack hesitates. “I’m not sure. I think he used his last strengths to put us in a trance? Like a dream. So we wouldn’t fight anymore.” He looks down, focused for a couple of seconds, before looking up and smiling. “But we got out. It’s real. We’re back!”

“You sure?”

Jack nods vigorously, and Dean decides to trust his instincts. After all, if what they just did worked correctly, Jack is now pumped full of God-Juice.

Shaking his head, Dean stands – with difficulty, but at least he’s alive, so he’s not gonna complain – and gives Chuck a disgusted look.

This is where he would say something, like a movie one-liner or something, but he’s not feeling it. He still remembers his dream-self dismissing Cas’s death, telling Sam something along the line of how it was life and they should keep living it no matter what, and whatever bullshit he believed, truly believed in this weird dream-place Chuck transported them into.

If this is the ending Chuck had chosen for them, then Chuck really is the worst writer Dean’s ever known.

“Dean?”

Dean turns to Sam, and he sees in his brother’s eyes what he feels on the inside, too. A bone-deep exhaustion, the sadness remembering everything they fought through. The guilt at having sunk so easily into those imagined personas that Chuck created for them.

Chuck deserves to be left alone here to rot, human and defenseless. Now, more than never.

With a sigh and a nod, Dean tries to move, but his broken leg makes itself known again, and he almost falls. Sam manages to catch him with his good arm, and on they go, limping together towards Jack.

“Wait!” Chuck tries, but his voice gets weaker as he speaks. “Don’t leave me! Guys! Don’t leave me here! Dean! Sam!”

Of course, they ignore him. He doesn’t have any power over them. He doesn’t have any power over anybody.

They’re free to write their own ending.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

This book doesn’t give Dean any clue on where to start to get Cas back either.

He slams it close it and freezes, sitting at the bunker’s kitchen table, swallowing frantically as he tries to push down the tears and the epic sob that wants to escape his throat.

But it’s too hard.

Jack left, the same way he did in Chuck’s dream world. Turns out this part had nothing to do with Chuck, it was all Jack, all something he’d thought about when Dean and Sam had proposed the plan that would lead to Chuck’s loss of power.

In the dream, before he realized it was a creation of Chuck, Jack had managed to keep his own free will.

And so, the kid is gone, and Dean and Sam are left alone with their actual feelings, sans dog this time, because Dean is not about to steal a good boy from his family. It’s been tough. Tougher than the Dream, for sure.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam asks from behind him.

Dean pictures him in the doorframe. He doesn’t want to turn around, because if he sees the look on Sam’s face that matches the apologetic tone of his voice, this time he’ll really end up bawling his eyes out.

“Dean I—”

Dean violently pushes the book away from him, away from the table. It was the wrong move to make, because as soon as it hits the floor in a loud bang, the lump in Dean’s throat is suddenly bubbling up and tears start filling his eyes and he has to hide his face in his hands so that Sam won’t see what’s happening inside him.

He holds it all together, although he doesn’t know how. It feels too big. He’s going to explode, because he’s already tearing at the seams.

What finally undoes him is Sam’s giant hand landing on his shoulder, the same one Cas left a bloody hand-print on, and Dean finally breaks.

An ugly sob escapes him, and he can’t stop. He can’t stop crying, and he can’t stop this huge wave of despair drowning him all of a sudden. He can’t keep his head above the water this time.

He can’t do this anymore.

Sam doesn’t seem to know what to do either. He squeezes Dean’s shoulder, and Dean hears him go to the fridge, open it, get something out of it – beer, he’s almost sure – and coming back to sit in front of Dean.

He cracks open the beers, deposits one in front of Dean, and waits while Dean cries into his hands.

It takes what feels like a very long time, but eventually, the tides of Dean’s sadness slowly recede, long enough that he stops sobbing like a baby. Now only silent tears keep flowing, and he’s obviously ashamed about it, but he’s too tired to let it stop him.

He looks up. Sam is staring back, his puppy face on, a sad frown on the turn of his lips.

He sighs. “What happened, Dean?”

Dean sniffles, runs his sleeve under his nose. “What do you mean?”

His voice is hoarse, trembling. He doesn’t recognize it.

“With Billy,” Sam answers. “And Cas.”

Dean tries to look away, and Sam’s voice hardens, “You’ve never reacted like this to anything. Something happened.”

 _I don’t want to talk about it_ , is on the tip of Dean’s tongue, but Cas’s words come back to him, or rather the feeling he got when the angel told him he was loving and kind. A fresh wave of tears slip down his cheeks. He opens his mouth to talk but he can’t, not yet, and he closes it, and waits until the tears stop.

Sam, always patient, waits him out.

“He said--” Dean starts, and has to stop again. He swallows. “Cas… said—he said some things. About me. He, he told me he l—he loved…” the word is whispered, because he’s scared of it. He doesn’t know what it means. “Me. Loved me.”

Sam seems stunned into silence. But not for long.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Dean answers. “I didn’t have time. I—I, I couldn’t—it happened too fast. First he tells me he made a deal with the Empty to save Jack’s life, then he tells me it could save _my_ life, and by the time I understood it meant he was sacrificing himself he’d given me a speech about how good of a person I am and then he said—he said _it_. And the Empty took him. I didn’t know—it went too fast. I didn’t understand half of it. Hell, I can hardly remember half of what he said!”

And that’s the kicker, isn’t it? This is why he feels so guilty, because his best friend bared his soul to him and he didn’t listen. He doesn’t remember what Cas said. Only the ‘I love you’ still rings in his ears, when he allows himself to remember it, but even that doesn’t make any sense.

Cas is an angel, a celestial being, surely this doesn’t mean what it would mean for a human.

 _But what if_ , his brain whispers to him for the hundredth time, and the tears come back with a vengeance.

“Wow,” is all Sam says. Dean can see the wheels in his brain turn. “He… he finally said it, huh?”

Dean blinks, still trying not to cry, and it takes him a second to register what his brother said. “What do you mean, ‘finally’?”

“Well,” Sam shrugs, and takes a sip of his beer.

“Sam.”

“It seemed… it always looked to me that there was something between you too. Not like that,” he adds when Dean opens his mouth to protest. “I just mean… you were close. And sometimes, the way Cas looked at you, or looked when he was talking to you on the phone or whatever… it very much looked like love, you know? So I figured, since Angels are not gendered, they probably don’t see same-sex relationship like we do.”

Dean shakes his head. “But that’s the thing, he’s an angel. He doesn’t mean it like we do.”

Sam huffs. “He hasn’t been a proper angel for years. The way he acted with Jack? With Claire, with us? You don’t think he knows how human feelings work?”

And yeah, Sam’s right, but it’s so unfathomable for Dean to think about Cas loving him _that_ way that all he finally manages to say after a moment of silence is, “But I’m—I’m not gay. I’m not—”

Sam blows a raspberry. “Right. Everybody has a Swayze phase, right? And a Hasselhoff phase. And a Bruce Willis phase. And a—”

“Alright, alright!” Dean bursts, putting his hand up in surrender. “Jesus!”

“Whatever excuse you’ve got prepared, Dean, you don’t need it. If you don’t love Cas this way, I won’t be mad. I don’t even think Cas will be mad. And if you do, I definitely won’t be mad,” Sam smiles, “I’d be happy for you. Cause we’re getting him back, okay? That’s not a question. He deserves to live a life free of Chuck. Out of all of us, he’s the one who suffered the most from it.”

And he believes this, so much so that Dean believes it in turn. Sam’s not sad. Sam’s been running every morning, and he kept making breakfast for Dean, and kept looking through the bunker for a spell or something that could get them into the Empty. He’s been energized ever since Chuck has been defeated.

He spent a lot of time on his phone, too.

He has hope, and maybe he has love as well, and Dean wants that. He doesn’t want this void inside of him anymore.

Well, at least this managed to stop the flow of tears. “Yeah,” he just says. “Yeah. We’ll get Cas back.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“This one’s useless, too,” Sam sighs, closing the giant book of witch lore he found who-knows-where.

“Isn’t there anything that Rowena left behind that could…” Dean trails off, looking up from his spot at the library table.

“No,” Sam says. “Short of going to Hell to ask her, I don’t think she’s ever had anything that could help us this time.”

Dean straightens up, interested. “Could we?”

“What?”

“Go to Hell. To ask her?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why?” Dean huffs, “Scared Eileen will be jealous?”

Sam freezes, a deer-in-headlight look on his face. Dean shakes his head.

“Don’t sweat it, Sammy, I know what you’ve been doing on your phone all this time.”

Sam clears his throat. “I, huh, didn’t want you to feel…” he trails off, shrugs.

“Lonely? No. I’m good. I’m happy for you, really. And I kinda figured, you know, after the Dream thing… she’d be the first one you’d check on.”

Humming, Sam grabs another book from the pile in the middle of the oak table. “Yeah. It’s so crazy that it took us fifty years of dream-time to realize it was all fake. Shoulda been the first thing that should’ve clued me in. That she wasn’t here.” He opens the book, looks down at it. “That I didn’t even think to call her or check that she was back.” 

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Dean says, taking a sip of his beer. “I didn’t realize it either. I mean, I died, went to Heaven, no sign of Cas, and I didn’t even ask about him. Bobby said Mom and Dad were there but I didn’t even try to check on them? I mean, that’s insane. I know you’re supposed to be all appeased once you get to Heaven and everything, but still.”

“Do you think—” Sam starts, then stops himself.

“What?”

“Well, Jack was himself through the whole thing. You said he made Heaven… uh, great again,” Sam says in a grimace, and Dean huffs a laugh. “And that Bobby said Cas helped, so… you think maybe Jack did the same thing in reality?”

Dean considers it. He considers it real hard, and he realizes that it makes a whole lot of sense, but something’s not adding up. 

“Wait,” he hunches over, forehead in his hand, beer in the other, “you think we’re looking in the wrong place and Cas is actually in Heaven?”

Sam shrugs again, “Would make some kind of sense, I guess.”

“But he’s an angel. If he’s in Heaven, why wouldn’t he pop outta there to say, ‘hi, I’m alive’ at least?”

This seems to make the rounds inside Sam’s noggin’, and Dean, more patiently than he feels, lets him mull it over, because he himself can’t come up with a plausible explanation.

“You’re right,” Sam finally admits. “But then it doesn’t make sense that Jack would have left Cas in the Empty. Why would he get him out in Dreamland and not here in the real world? Jack wouldn’t let Cas disappear like this. He just wouldn’t.”

Dean shakes his head, “I don’t know, man. Doesn’t make any sense. But if there’s a chance Cas is not in the Empty then why are we even—”

There’s a knock at the door. They both freeze, but barely for a second. Sam has a gun in hand and is up by Dean in less time that it takes Dean to process the noise.

And it happens again.

This time, Dean reacts as well, grabbing his gun and cocking it. They look at each other, and Dean signals Sam to get behind him. They slowly advance to the stairs.

With practice ease, Dean covers the stairs and let Sam get up there, long legs easily going over the steps. Once he reaches the middle, he covers for Dean, and Dean quickly climbs up all the way.

The knocking goes on as Sam joins him. They look at each other. Dean signals for Sam to cover him, and his hand comes to rest of the door handle, while the other keeps his gun up and ready.

He counts in his head: three… two…

There’s another knock.

Dean opens the door. And freezes.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says, standing on the other side of the door, sweaty, covered in dirt and grime, and so, so real-looking.

Dean hardens his stance, jaws grinding as he braces himself against the onslaught of rage and fury suddenly boiling inside him.

“How do we know you’re real?” he asks.

This is not what he wanted to say, but he runs with it. Cas blinks, surprised. He looks tired.

“Of course… I, huh, I don’t know.” He eyes Sam, then Dean in turn. “I could tell you something only I would know?”

“You could,” Sam says. He’s on edge, too. “But then you could be reading our minds.”

Cas – or the thing pretending to be Cas – sighs, an exhausted noise that has Dean feeling uneasy. His mannerism is on point, at least. He frowns like Cas, looking down on the right like Cas does when he’s thinking hard about something, even hums just like Cas.

“I don’t know what happened after I… was taken by the Empty,” Cas finally says, slowly. “But I understand how difficult this might be for you to believe. However,” and his eyes finally find Dean’s again, “I’ve actually had to walk here. It took me days, I didn’t have any money, I barely got any food in me. Please… just… can you trust me on this? What do your guts say?”

Well, Dean’s guts tell him he should lower his guns and get a handful of angel right about now, and there’s no reason for him not to trust his instincts now that he’s free from Chuck’s weird story fantasy. But years of training, of fighting monsters in disguise has him holding back.

“Sorry, but we can’t do that. If you’re really Cas, then you know that, better than anybody.”

“How did you get out?” Sam asks.

Right. One of them still has their wits about them, at least.

“Jack,” Cas simply says. “I think. It felt like him.”

And there’s something sad in the turn of his mouth. Sad, but resigned.

Dean glances towards Sam, and Sam, feeling it, looks back. Dean tries to convey how confused he is right now, how Sam is the only thing holding him together because if it was up to him, he would have rolled out the red carpet for Cas five minutes ago.

Sam cocks his head on the side, as if to say, ‘ _come on, man, you know better than this!_ ’ to which Dean tries to convey, ‘ _I know, but I don’t care, I need this to be real_ ’, and it seems finally convince Sam.

“Alright,” he says, releasing his grip on his gun oh-so slightly. “Tell us this. What’s the last thing you said to Dean? Before you disappeared.”

“Sam!” Dean protests as his cheeks get hot.

Cas wasn’t expecting this. His mouth opens and closes several times as he stares at Sam, resolutely avoiding Dean’s eyes, and it would almost be comical if it didn’t feel as important as it does to Dean. His heart is suddenly pumping against his chest, and it fucking hurts, almost like it did when Billy was trying to kill him.

And Cas seems to retract inside himself. He lowers his head, looking down at his feet, and if there was space, Dean’s pretty sure he would’ve taken a step back.

“Of all the things you could’ve asked,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure this is a conversation that shouldn’t have ended with you disappearing into the void,” Sam answers, and Cas hums.

“I don’t want to make Dean uncomfortable,” the angel says, voice barely a whisper.

And so Dean knows. This is really Cas. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know how, doesn’t give a shit about any of it, because Cas is here, Cas is alive.

“I’m not—” he starts, but he’s surprised by the sudden need to cry that comes out of nowhere. “I’m not mad, Cas,” he manages. “I’m not mad.” Cas looks up, somewhat hopeful. Dean lowers his gun, eyes filling up with tears again. “I’m not mad. But don’t ever die on me like this ever again, okay?”

Cas’s face does a few complicated things, that Dean doesn’t bother to read. He waits, because he’s pretty sure Cas is fighting the same ball of emotions that’s currently bubbling up Dean’s throat, and he probably needs time to be able to speak.

Sam lowers his gun as well, taking a step back and effectively disappearing from Dean’s peripheral vision.

“Okay,” Cas lets out.

Dean nods. “Okay. Come here.”

“Come on in,” Sam says.

So Cas steps inside. And Dean engulfs him into the tightest bear-hug he can muster. Cas still smells like himself. A bit stale, maybe, but if he really walked for days, of course he’s not gonna smell like flowers and rainbows.

Dean laughs, a wet sound that could almost be mistaken for a sob. But Dean’s not crying. Of course he’s not.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

They don’t talk about it.

They don’t talk about Cas’s confession, and Dean’s getting more and more uneasy as the hours tick by.

Cas settled in his old room, and they let him rest, because, as they quickly discovered, the reason Cas had to walk to Lebanon instead of flying directly to the bunker is because he lost his Grace. That was the deal so he could get out of the Empty, because of course Jack would go the peaceful route and try and convince the Empty to do things fair and square.

Cas doesn’t seem to mind. This morning, as he eats the eggs and bacon Sam made for all of them, he looks content.

It’s just incredibly weird to Dean that he would be happy just being around Dean without having an answer to what he said when he knew he was about to die. Dean would be vibrating out of his skin if it were him.

Well. He actually is vibrating out of his skin, waiting for the other shoe to drop. So he doesn’t understand how Cas can look so calm. He wants to ask, but Sam’s been here ever since Cas knocked at the door last evening, and Dean’s not about to have this conversation in front of his brother.

Of course, Sam’s allowed to want to spend time around Cas. He’s his best friend too, after all. Dean just wishes he would get a clue and leave them alone for a couple of minutes.

But really, does he really want that? What would he say to Cas? He doesn’t know how to answer. Maybe that’s why he’s so stressed out about the whole thing, about Cas not saying anything, because if it comes right this second, then Dean doesn’t know how to react.

He’s not ready.

But then again, will he ever be ready?

He doesn’t think so. This is just bizarre. What if Sam is wrong and Cas loves him but in the way an angel loves humanity? What if this is what he meant, and Dean’s getting his panties in a twist for no reason? What then? If Dean asks, and this is what Cas meant, would that make things more awkward?

Dean can’t get out of this one with a ‘ _Huh, my bad, I thought you meant you were gay for me and spent days thinking about what I should tell you but if that’s not the case then never mind_ ’.

“Dean?” Cas asks, pulling Dean out of his thoughts. “Are you okay? You look… troubled.”

“I, huh,” Dean looks around, realizing with sudden distress that Sam is gone, “I’m good. Just, you know, thinking.”

“About what?”

_Shit._

Slowly, he looks back at Cas, and it must be very apparent that he feels like he’s got caught red-handed because Cas lowers his eyes as if Dean just killed his puppy in front of him.

“I guess we, huh,” Dean starts, licking his lips, “we have to talk about what you said. I mean, unless you don’t want to, but it’s just… it’s been on my mind.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Cas says, sheepish and avoiding Dean’s eyes.

“Don’t be. I, uh, I just want to understand what you meant.”

At that, Cas gives Dean a look that reads very much like confusion. “I thought it was pretty clear.”

“It was, but hum…” Dean runs a hand on the back on his neck, “I was wondering. You’re an angel. Maybe, you didn’t mean it like we would. I don’t know if it was in general, or, um, personal but in a general way. I mean, this could be interpreted differently depending on who… you know. I mean. Yeah.”

Cas blinks at him. “I don’t follow.”

“It’s fine. I mean, it was a bit confusing to me and with everything that was happening... I’m sorry, okay? I'm sorry I couldn’t answer you. I’m sorry you had to go like that, and I barely understood what you were saying, but everything was happening at once and I just…” Dean lets out a breath, “It was a lot and I guess what I’m trying to say is, I had trouble processing everything that happened. I just wanted to make sure… make sure that I understood. I don’t think you meant what I think you meant because you’re this… this unfathomable being who’s seen centuries go by and I’m just a forty-something guy who didn’t really have the most regular social life so—”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupts as his hand finds Dean’s.

He squeezes, his skin warm and reassuring and Dean shuts up, swallowing hard as he looks anywhere but at Cas’s face.

“Please, could you look at me?”

“Um, yeah,” Dean breathes, eyes settling on his hands. Their hands. “Gimme a sec.”

A few seconds of silence pass before Cas inquires, “Dean?”

So Dean’s not the only one who’s impatient, then.

“Yeah,” Dean says, sniffs, and finally looks up.

As always, Cas’s earnestness feels like a punch to the gut. He’s so open, so patient, the blue of his eyes still so clear under the shitty fluorescent lights of the kitchen that Dean can’t look away.

He doesn’t want to.

“I, uh… I’m listening.”

The hint of a smile appears on Cas’s lips, but the way he presses them together before he speaks betrays his nerves.

“I meant it the way I meant it,” he says, slowly, almost unsure. “I love you.” His head tilts to the side, almost quizzical, “Not like you love Sam. Not like I’ve been told all my life to love my Father’s creation. I love you like… like a husband loves his wife, if you will.”

Dean swallows as his heart skips a beat.

“Not that I think you’re like a woman,” Cas hastily adds, his expression turning into a serious frown. “I would never imply anything like that. And even that is actually not true. The way Jimmy loved Amelia was strong but it felt quiet. This—the way I feel about you is restless, powerful, it—it—I can’t describe it.”

Now there’s fire in his eyes, and Dean thinks he understands what Cas means.

But all of a sudden, the fire is gone, replaced by something akin to resignation. Cas takes his hand away.

“I knew you wouldn’t reciprocate, given that my vessel is very much male. And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” He looks down. Dean’s gaze gets stuck on the way his eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks. Almost like tears. “I truly thought I would never see you again.”

Dean huffs, but he’s more amazed than bitter. “So you threw your feelings at me and bailed, hoping we wouldn’t have to talk about it?”

He wonders how he can be so calm because Sam was right, Cas loves him _this way_ , and he’s dizzy with the knowledge.

But it’s almost too big to believe.

Cas shrugs, still not looking up, “Pretty much.”

Dean hums, pretending for a moment to turn the thought over in his head. “But we’re here.”

With a sigh, Cas finds the courage to look him in the eye. “We are.”

Slowly, as if Dean’s own body is working against him, a smile fights its way to his lips. This is just—this is insane. Cas loves him. Like, _love_ loves him. And Dean’s just sitting there with his heart in his throat and the words he should be saying trying to hide from his own brain because this is too big. It’s comically big.

He huffs out a giggle. Then another. He can’t stop.

Cas frowns at him, annoyed. “What’s so funny?”

“Nuthin’”

“Dean…”

But Dean is giddy with the realization that this is real. This isn’t destiny bullcrap, it’s just Cas, and it’s just Dean, and they’re free to do whatever. Just them. They’re free to choose.

More importantly, Dean is free to put all of his insecurities aside, just this once, and just _try_ something for himself.

“Okay, get up,” he tells Cas, still smiling.

Cas seems confused but doesn’t protest. He stands.

“Close your eyes,” Dean asks gently as he pushes away from his chair as well.

“What are you--?”

“Cas, please. Humor me. I need to, uh, process stuff, alright?”

“And you need me to stand there with my eyes closed like an idiot while you do?” Cas asks, dryly.

Dean huffs a laugh. “Pretty much.”

Cas rolls his eyes, but true to himself, he trusts Dean blindly – quite literally this time. He closes his eyes.

“Just promise me you won’t be gone when I open my eyes again.”

“I would never do that.”

“Sure.”

“Cas. Shut up and trust me, okay?”

Fortunately for Dean, Cas doesn’t argue further. “Fine.”

And Dean stands there in front of him, and he clenches and unclenches his fists trying to find the courage to lean over and take what’s offered.

 _But is it offered?_ A small voice pipes up in his mind.

Sure, Cas loves him – _Cas loves HIM_ – but he might not want any physical contact. It didn’t occur to Dean until that moment.

“Dean?”

“Uh, yeah.” _Shit_. “Uh, just so we’re clear… you, um, you want to be with me. Like a regular human couple, right? Doing couple things.”

And of course Cas starts to get more than annoyed. He frowns harder, opens his mouth.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Dean gets out in a panic.

Cas huffs. “Yes. I wanted that. This is starting to feel slightly humiliating, Dean. I know you have trouble with what people might think of you but I can assure you that my feelings and desires will not rub on you and make you gay by proxy. I understand this is a lot but—”

Dean kisses him.

First, to shut Cas up, because he was getting angry and Dean doesn’t want him to work himself up because he’s getting the wrong ideas. Also, Dean has to admit that he was starting to panic seeing Cas react this way, and so he had to make him stop.

Second, Dean had to shut his brain up. Clearly, he was already starting to overthink things. The ‘shoot first, ask question later’ philosophy works well in this situation.

And third, well… he wanted to. As Cas was speaking, Dean couldn’t stop looking at his lips. He’s been doing that a lot over the years, so it’s well passed the time for Dean to find out what Cas’s lips would feel like on his own.

It’s almost just a peck, a press of mouths, but Cas is freshly shaven, and his lips are soft. Dean is suddenly hyper aware of his own body as they touch. He’s waited so long for this that it all feels surreal but as perfect as Dean never thought it could be.

It’s like the world is right, finally. The last piece has been found. The puzzle is complete.

Slowly, with a regretful breath, Cas pulls away. His eyes are open, wide and confused, and somewhat unsure. Dean smiles gently at him.

“I love you too, Cas,” he breathes.

Cas seems to melt hearing the words, his shoulders sagging down as he exhales. “Say that again.”

The words feel alien in Dean’s mouth, but he forces them out. He wants Cas to see how true they are. “I love you, Cas.”

Now Cas is smiling, a real, genuine smile lighting up his face. Seeing him smile has always felt like seeing the sun peeking out from under the clouds after a long storm, now more than ever.

“Can I do that again?” Dean asks.

He still expects Cas to change his mind, even though there’s no reason for him to.

But of course Cas just nods, happiness radiating from his every pore.

And despite the bravado that Dean displays, he hesitates, and this time it’s Cas who leans forward. His right hand lands gently on Dean’s shoulder – _the shoulder_ – while his left comes to rest on the back of Dean’s neck.

He pulls Dean in and their lips meet again.

It’s just as good the second time, Dean muses as his mouth moves against Cas’s, head tilting on the side for a better angle. He hopes that all the other times will be just as good as this one.

It’s so good, in fact, that they lose themselves in each other. Now that Dean can feel how enthusiastic Cas is about physical contact, he has no qualm pushing their bodies together and holding on to Cas as tight as he can.

There’s nothing sexual about it. He just wants the contact, wants to feel the warmth of Cas’s body, Cas’s hands on him, Cas’s mouth and his tongue and everything that makes him real and tangible and very much Cas.

All those things Dean denied himself for so long – or was it him, really? – He can indulge in, now. He’s free.

And, fuck, does it feel good!

“Jesus Christ!” Sam exclaims from behind Dean.

When Dean turns around, Sam’s lingering in the doorway, covering his eyes.

Dean doesn’t let go of Cas, and Cas doesn’t let go of Dean.

“You’re gonna have to learn to announce yourself from now on, Sammy.”

“Right. Sorry! I’m going.”

“Was there something you needed, Sam?” Cas asks, always concerned.

 _Dean loves him_.

“I’m good, really,” Sam lets out. “I’m, huh, happy for you, guys. Just… I’ll be around if you—” He peeks from between his fingers, and Dean gives him a pointed look. “Right. Sam out.”

And he awkwardly shuffles away.

Dean bursts out laughing as he looks back at Cas, who’s smiling too. He’s amused and… oh. Yeah. There’s something else in his eyes that has Dean’s insides twist pleasantly. His chest is hurting. Is this what being in love feels like? He never wants it to stop.

With fondness overcoming him, he leans against Cas, forehead to forehead.

He has this. He has Cas. They’ll grow old together – Cas is human, now, Dean almost forgot – and that’s another can of worms he doesn’t want to look at too closely right now.

“I love you,” he says again. Because he can. He chose this. He chose Cas.

It’s liberating.

“I know,” Cas answers.

Dean feels the corner of Cas’s mouth turn up into a smug smile against his cheek.

He knows he’s made the right choice.


End file.
